I sit inside my tank and feel at ease.

I spiral through my owner’s silken hands.

I strangle birds I find inside my dreams.

I swallow mice I come upon in sand

already dead. There is no fun or fat

that I can tangle with at night. Sometimes

I’m shown to guests by her and marveled at.

‘Til now I’ve shed a thousand summers by.

An endless small sun hangs above and keeps 

my blood from pause. I know that human hand 

is not a threat. These crickets never leap

or shove. I wish her mouth grew fangs to dread. 

I daydream of her striking me one night.

Before I learned of love I knew of fight.